Postmortem

Postmortem

            ‘I am sitting here this morning,’ announced the magistrate, ‘as the coroner assigned to assist the police in their investigations. The task of this court is to establish the cause of the death of Ms Democracy. The relatives of Democracy, commonly known as Citizens, have claimed that she died as the result of a vicious attack on Democracy by Dictatorship. On the other hand the representatives of Dictatorship, commonly known as cadres, have firmly maintained that they always supported and loved Democracy and would never do anything to harm her, and that she died of natural causes. On the other hand, the Women’s Hobby has suggested that death may have been caused by Gender Based Murder, sometimes known as GBM. Because of these conflicting interests, the court will hear postmortem reports from three different pathologists.’

          The magistrate now turned towards the investigating offer. ‘Inspector, is this GBM the former husband of Democracy?’

          ‘Good gracious no,’ replied the inspector, ‘GBM has never had any relationship with Democracy. GBM and Democracy have always been completely incompatible.’

          ‘Quite so,’ said the magistrate. ‘But in the case of the death of a wife we must always treat the husband as the first suspect. So who is the husband of the late departed?’

          ‘She was happily married to Constitution,’ replied the inspector.

          ‘Constitution!’ exclaimed the magistrate. ‘But surely it is the job of Constitution to protect Democracy! How did he allow his own dear partner to die?’

          ‘He is in jail, M’Lord, awaiting trial.’

          ‘On what charge?’

          ‘On a charge of trying to limit the powers of the Dictator, M’Lord. Constitution is now locked up indefinitely, pending correction in a correctional facility.’

          ‘Did he not seek bail?’

          ‘He did my Lord. He wanted to be freed so that he could protect Democracy. But bail was refused.’

          ‘Refused?’ said the magistrate. ‘On what grounds?’

          ‘On the ground that Democracy was already dead!’

          ‘Quite right,’ declared the magistrate. ‘There’s no need for a Constitution when Democracy is already dead. Do let’s get on with hearing from the first pathologist, Mr Mfwa.’

Mr Mfwa walked to the witness stand and swore never to tell the truth, so help him God. ‘Now give us your report on the cause of death,’ requested the magistrate.

‘The first thing I noticed when I examined the body,’ began Mfwa, ‘was that all the fingers were missing.’

‘Had she died from loss of blood?’ asked the magistrate.

‘Oh no,’ replied Mfwa. ‘Apparently they had been sliced off many years earlier when she tried to hang on to a banner saying We want freedom of the press.’

‘Did she have any other wounds?’ asked the magistrate irritably.

‘Both of her legs were missing?’ declared Mfwa.

‘What had caused that?’

‘Going on a protest march without a police permit.’

‘Was that the cause of death?’

‘Oh no,’ replied Mfwa. ‘But it had caused her to be confined to her house. That’s why we haven’t been seeing much of Democracy in recent years.’

‘Look, Mr Mfwa,’ shouted the magistrate. ‘Did you find out the cause of death?’

‘Yes,’ he replied calmly. ‘I found a very large aspirin stuck in her throat.’

‘So she suffocated!’ said the magistrate.

‘No,’ said Mfwa, ‘she died of a very bad headache. Natural causes.’

‘You’re giving me a very bad headache,’ sneered the magistrate. Then, turning to the Clerk of Court, ‘Bring on the next pathologist.’

‘Mr Yafwa,’ said the magistrate wearily, ‘Do you have any different explanation for the death of Democracy?’

‘She died,’ said Yafwa slowly, ‘because her head had been cut off by one slice from a very sharp instrument, probably a panga. Death was from unnatural causes.’

The magistrate now turned to Mfwa, ‘Well,’ he said sarcastically, ‘I wonder how you noticed missing fingers and legs, but failed to notice a missing head?’

‘It is possible to wonder at a lot of things,’ sneered Mfwa. ‘I wonder why my learned colleague never considered that I had to cut off the head in order to find the aspirin lodged in her throat.’

The magistrate now turned hopefully to the third pathologist. ‘Mr Fwile, to what do you attribute the death of Democracy?’

‘M’Lord, I agree with my learned colleague Mr Yafwa that the cause of death was decapitation caused by a single mighty slice from a very sharp blade.’

‘In order words, unnatural causes?’ asked the magistrate.

‘Oh no,’ said Yafwa. ‘Bearing in mind Newton’s Second Law of Motion, the large mass of the blade, combined with its high rate of deceleration when striking the neck, and the large concentration of pressure caused by the sharpness of the blade, it was absolutely natural and inevitable that the blow would cause decapitation. I have no hesitation in concluding that death was by natural causes.’

‘On the basis of the majority view of the pathologists,’ said the magistrate, ‘I declare that Democracy died of natural causes, and that no criminal investigations are necessary. I declare the case closed, and hope that the soul of Democracy will rest in peace.’ So saying, he rose to his feet and disappeared into his chambers.

As people left the court, they talked amongst themselves:

‘It’s just as well it wasn’t murder.’

‘We don’t want murder here.’

‘We are a peaceful people.’

‘I always thought she was a bit of a trouble maker.’

‘Well out the way if you ask me.’

‘Good thing that Constitution has been locked up. He was the one giving her wrong ideas.’

‘Now she can rest in peace.’

‘This is a peaceful country.’

‘Especially at Leopards Hill.’